Mireya
by KitSparrow
Summary: My second RENT fic, finally finished! Thanks for waiting (if you did), I think it's worth it...
1. Chapter One

Mireya   
by Sparrow 

Her hair is golden blonde, like her father's. Her skin is dark, like her mother's. She has her mother's brown eyes and her father's strong jaw. She likes to dance, she likes to sing, she loves it when I play her father's Fender, even though I'm not very good at it. They named her Mireya, Spanish for "miraculous", because that's what she is. Rose, because Roger said so. Marquez-Davis because they never did get around to marrying, and Mimi wouldn't have wanted to change her name anyway, feminist movement and all that. She is five years old and every inch her parents' daughter. It hurts, to see the reflections of Roger in her actions, her unknowing mimicry of Mimi in all she says. Knowing they will never see what becomes of her is a slash to the heart every time I see her. 

_ ~Roger came in looking like he didn't know whether to burst into tears and lock himself in his room for eternity, or shout for joy, dance around the apartment with wild abandon, then treat us all to drinks on what little money the band was earning at the closest bar.___

_ I did a double take, then grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. "Woah! What's going on Rog?"___

_ "Mimi- she... she's pregnant!" Total and utter shock in his voice, and in Collins' eyes as we traded glances.___

_ "You're kidding." Collins said, standing.___

_ Roger just shook his head.___

_ "Well, this is great! Party at the Life, on me!" Collins proclaimed.~_

She's asleep in my lap now. "Tell me a story," she insisted, settling down before I could protest and then falling asleep before I even reached the good part. Moving her will only result in waking her up, which will make her cranky as all hell. I'll just have to sit here until Collins or Maureen or Joanne gets back from wherever they are tonight. Strange how life comes full circle at times. We've all moved out of the loft at various point, except me and Mireya. Maureen even convinced Joanne that it was their duty to move back in, to give the "all too male dominated" loft some feminine influence after Mimi... 

The pregnancy was hard on her. Already weakened by her near-death experience two years previous, and now having to give up her medication for the baby... Doctors had recommended she abort the baby to protect herself. But she stubbornly decided to risk it. Since she couldn't dance any more, they had to depend on Roger's share of the band's very meager earnings and whatever the rest of the "family" would donate. And the birth was even harder in state she was in, but her stubborn strength and will were rewarded when Mireya was born, HIV- and in absolutely perfect condition. I'd never seen either Mimi or Roger look happier than when they were gifted with their miracle child. 

The photo of the three of them that day is one of the few framed in the loft, mounted for all to see on the wall across from the door. It's a bright, happy scene, even with all three of them, especially Mimi, looking so extremely exhausted. Mireya had striking deep blue eyes for her first year, before they turned brown. That striking blue stands out so clearly in the photo, back-dropped by dull browns and whites of the room as she looked curiously, though tiredly, toward me for the first time; Roger and Mimi were too busy looking at her to even notice me until the flash went off. 

Maureen kicked all us males out of the building soon after, "to give Mimi and the baby some rest". I remember in finite detail, Roger, Collins, and I, standing outside the door, looking at each other, and without ever saying a word about it, unanimously deciding to go down to the Life and party. The staff had pretty much given up trying to keep us out by that point. 

The next two years are some of the happiest in my memory. It seemed that suddenly, everyone was devoted to the one cause of bringing Mireya up to be happier than any of us had been in our childhoods. She was very spoiled-- and still is. But at least she's endearingly cute about it. Even Benny and Alison managed to fall into her spell. It's no unknown fact that the two have been trying for children since they first married, and still have none. No wonder they're so taken with her. She became the source of the end of our disputes. 

But there was always a lingering shadow on that happiness. Mimi's health was never quite whole after that Christmas Eve, and only descended after Mireya's birth. She became increasingly ill, and though she waved it off as just another cold, just a little tiredness, we all knew the signs. She lived to hear Mireya speak full baby-word laden sentences and to see her walk unsteadily across the living area. Two weeks after Mireya's second birthday, Mimi just collapsed. She was admitted to the same clinic Angel was in before and... died a month later. 

_ ~I stood just in the doorway of the tiny room, holding the sleeping Mireya, who though unaware of the dire circumstances, knew full well that something was wrong with Mommy. She had worn herself out trying to figure out why we were all so upset, trying to run into her mother's room and ask her herself and had finally fallen asleep in my arms. Doctors hadn't been letting anyone in but Roger all day, but now they had finally caved to Mimi's weakened begging and let me carry Mireya in.___

_ Roger was sitting in a chair next to Mimi's bed, clutching her paper-thin hand protectively, tears staining his cheeks though he was visibly trying to suppress them. He looked lost and afraid and desperate and despairing as he talked to her softly, kissing her whitened fingers and trying to reassure her and himself. Mimi smiled weakly at whatever he said and slowly reached her frail free hand to cup his face and tousle his blonde hair affectionately. Then she looked up and noticed me and waved me over so she could see Mireya.___

_ I carefully gave the sleeping toddler into Roger's arms and he leaned forward to let Mimi kiss their daughter, run thin fingers through her soft wild hair, tell her good-bye. Somehow she slept through it all, quietly sucking her thumb and barely rousing as she was handed around and finally came back to me. I stood behind Roger's chair now, feeling misplaced as I held her and Roger took up Mimi's hand again.___

_ "D'you--," Mimi's voice was dry and soft, barely a hinted whisper, and her breath caught as she tried to speak. "D'you think... Angel will be there?" She suddenly looked anxious.___

_ "I--" Roger's voice broke and wavered. "I'm sure she will be. And she'll be glad to see you." He kissed her hand again.___

_ Seemingly reassured, she looked up to me. "Mark, you take good care of my boy here. You promise?"___

_ I could only nod.~_

That was three years ago, and I still choke up thinking about it. Roger gave up trying to hold back his sobs and tears, and I didn't even try. Somehow we all coped through the next few months. 

Roger didn't become as depressed this time, but I think that's because he had Mireya to tie him back to the real world. He spent more time than every playing with her and doing everything to keep her happy, mostly in attempts to bring peace to himself. He wrote her songs, which she always loved, and he told her stories about how wonderful her Mommy was, and he tried to teach her to play the guitar, but his was too big, and she was more content just to listen to him play. Somehow we all coped. 

-----------------------------------   
Commento.   
*sniffle* waaah!! I can't believe I wrote that last bit! I almost started crying in the middle of writing it! :'( Which is why I couldn't continue. Roger's up next, and I don't think I can write two death scenes in one nigh... meep. I've never written a death scene before. I don't even read death fics if I can get around them. *whimper*   
er. *gets a hold of self*   
I've had this idea for Mark sitting with Mimi and Roger's daughter in his lap for a while now. I've kinda been working on it, but trying to evade the death scenes, since I knew it was inevitable. *sigh* I don't really know where this is going after I finish the reflection bit. It might just stay a one shot, or who knows, it might eventually tail Mireya through her childhood, maybe through her own eyes. I don't know.   
I'll finish this eventually... eventually.   
----   
coincidentally, the day after I finally settled on the name "Mireya" for this character, I met a girl by that name. She's nothing like this character. It's a little weird writing this... 

review?


	2. Chapter Two

Mireya   
by Sparrow Chapter Two:

Roger didn't become as depressed this time, but I think that's because he had Mireya to tie him back to the real world. He spent more time than every playing with her and doing everything to keep her happy, mostly in attempts to bring peace to himself. He wrote her songs, which she always loved, and he told her stories about how wonderful her Mommy was, and he tried to teach her to play the guitar, but his was too big, and she was more content just to listen to him play. Somehow we all coped. 

_ "Look Yeya," he was saying, plucking at the strings of the guitar, "this's E... G.. F.."_

_ I leaned against the doorway, completely unnoticed, just watching. Mireya grinned at her father, repeating the notes childishly and poking at the string. It started thrumming and she leaned back, surprised. For just a second, Roger looked like he was going to laugh._

_ "That's right Rosie," he said, putting the guitar aside and pulling her into his lap, hugging her tightly. She looked over his shoulder and saw me, pointed. "Mahk! Mahk!" Roger turned and caught my eye. I could make just make out tears in his eyes._

The old Fender sits on the other side of the room, leaning against a makeshift book/tape case, looking old and worn and forgotten, even though I still pick it up, dust it off, and try to play it from time to time. I started teaching myself to play when Roger became too weak to lift it, but I will never be able to match him in skill or art. I just don't have the right bone structure in my hands, my fingers aren't strong enough to hold the difficult chords, and I have such a low pain tollerancy, I don't play often enough to let calluses build where they should. But Mireya doesn't seem to mind too much... and we have a good cache of Roger performing on tape.... It's very hard to listen to those sometimes... 

I can't believe it's been a little over a year now... At first it seemed like Roger was going to be around for years and years to come, like he would last over everything... and then he slowly started taking the decline himself. Like I said, we recognized the signs in Mimi. But with Roger... I don't know, I didn't want to believe that he could actually leave us. That he would actually die. I still kick myself over it, that I wouldn't let myself see the signs, so I wasn't there. 

It was my nephew's birthday. Cindy had begged and pleaded and called once a day every day for months, saying that Joey wouldn't stop asking if I was going to come. It's great to have kids who adore you, it really is. Finally, I couldn't come up with anymore excuses. Collins convinced me that it would be a good change of pace, I should go spend time with my family. Mireya adored Joey as well, so I decided to take her with me. Roger said that he didn't feel up to getting out of bed that morning, and though I was concerned, he assured me he was fine, Collins, Maureen, and JoAnn assured me they'd watch out for him. Everyone shooed us out and sent us on our way, brightly packaged present in tow. 

_ I was in the backyard at Mom's, being attacked by various small children, Mireya and Joey being the ringleaders. It was a bright, warm day, party decorations everywhere. Typical little kid birthday, you know?_

_ Then Mom came out through the sliding glass door, carrying the cordless phone. She looked rattled, and a weird, spontaneous hush fell over the kids. I got up, brushing grass and kids off my clothes._

_ Mom extended the phone to me. "It's for you," she said shortly, quietly._

_ Something was very, very wrong. I could tell that much before I even said hello._

_ It was Benny. Benny of all people._

_ "Mark... are you sitting down?"_

_ "No... what's wrong?" I was starting to feel panicked._

_ "You're going to want to be. And probly away from all those kids." His joke sounded miserably forced._

_ I looked around and headed into the side yard. My mom's flower bushes were in full bloom, smelling sweet, each blooming hugely. "Okay, what is it?"_

_ "It's... Roger. He...ah..." I could hear tears in his voice. "He's dead. Maureen just found him a little while ago."_

_ My legs collapsed out from under me. All I could think was why was Benny crying? He and Roger had never gotten along... The shock hurt too much for me to say anything._

"--Mark? Mark, hey you awake?" 

I open my eyes and look around blearily. Did I fall asleep? Huh... It's Collins. Somehow Collins is still the strongest of us all. That's something to be thankful for. He grins when I don't say anything. 

"Need some help?" he asks, indicating Mireya who has sprawled all over me and the couch. 

"Er, yeah..." 

Between the two of us we can get her into her room--once April's, once Roger's, once Mimi's-- without waking her up. Then it's to the kitchen for some coffee. 

"So, what was it you were dreaming about?" Collins asks, now fancying himself a psychologist, dream analyzer, whatever. It's a new hobby for him. 

"Just... thinking about Roger..." 

He gives a knowing nod, takes a drink of his coffee and goes on to his room. 

I'm alone, considering the loft. It feels empty, but rich with memories, ghosts. It's become sort of creepy at night. Heading to my room, I pick up a tape of Roger playing, set it in the stereo Mom gave me last Christmas, and just listen. It's a song about life, death, dealing. God I miss him... 

The night after the funeral... I've been to too many funerals in the last seven years... That night I got badly drunk for the first time in years and then I dreamed about Roger. We talked all night, reliving old haunts, memories... every moment we spent together, good and bad. I felt so incredibly calm when I woke up, and I could just hear him, whispering in my ear, "_Thank you Mark, for not giving up on me. And everything else. Thanks so much_." 

End.   
------   
So, it's finally finished... I feel kinda like I cheated on the ending though... *sigh* I'm not really sure where the last bit came from, it just sort of happened... yeah, there are supposed to be M/R overtones, even though I never intended for them before that section... *shrug* so here it is in all it's finished glory. That's two now! ^_~   
reviews are muchly appreciated!   
-Sparrow, 1-22-03 


End file.
